He saw men. He saw women. He saw the young and the old. He saw friends, he saw people he didn't know, and he would undoubtedly see rivals and potential foes. He saw hunters; he saw trackers; he saw craftsmen; he saw artisans. He saw supernatural terrorists and freedom fighters who acted for a conflict beyond the comprehension of the average human psyche. He saw philanthropists and he saw liberationists. He saw utter benevolence, and a conglomerated force of strength, combined able to bring down any threat that fell in their path. He saw flesh, he saw blood, he saw sweat, he saw tears: he saw soul. But most importantly, above and beyond all else...

...Lazarus Carter saw people willing to fight.

He wasn't standing at a pedestal, or a podium, nor a lectern; he wasn't raised in the slightest. He was standing behind a chair, next to three others, which faced out against a sea of tilted benches and angled seats. This wasn't an AA meeting or some boardroom get-together, but all the same, comfort often made some of the difference. There weren't refreshments, the the whacked-out central heating kept things a little chilly - most were wearing coats - and altogether, the place that Alastor had managed to get his hands on, somewhere in an abandoned industrial area of Irkutsk, was little more than an old warehouse that it'd taken them a good few hours to rig up even a fucking lighting strip to, but it was away from the prying eyes of Templar attention, and, all in all, it would do.

On his left there was one chair, and on his right another; the three of them faced the sea of men and women he had registered already. There was him; there was the Russian; and there was... the Czech. The redhead still wasn't sure about how he felt when it came to running this gambit with a Ritualist - but he was going to take all the help he could get. Behind them was a broad, musty whiteboard, and held, though revolving without cease as Lazarus idly twiddled and spiraled his fingers, in his hand, was a brand new black marker for the surface. He'd been considering starting their little "party" for about two and a half minutes now, but he'd never been that great at rallying attention for stuff like this. Small teams, pairs, trios, even four, five, maybe six, that was fine. And it wasn't stagefright or anything; people didn't intimidate him. He just... never really knew where to start.

There wasn't a microphone or anything. So he guessed he just had to rely on his voice to carry as much weight as possible, try and bring this band of xenophobic, bright-eyed, staring and intense misfits together, whether it was their genealogy or how many groups of consciousness inhabited their mortal shells that gave them their right to sit in these chairs. Either way: they were hard-earned, that much was indeed for sure. "Uh," A few heads turned but the majority were unfettered. Did they even all speak English? Lazarus cleared his throat. "Guys," As much as he'd figured it would, his voice, surprisingly, didn't crack - nor did it sound meek, or anything other than just apprehensive. Which was perfectly adequate considering he was in a room full of trained demon killers. "If you all get comfortable, we can begin."

Some took their seats. Some remained standing. He shrugged, and looked from Alastor to Etreven. Most were remaining polite and keeping quiet; a couple chattered idly amongst themselves, and for some reason, he felt once more like he was a fourteen year old giving some Geology presentation on the significance of sedimentary rock in the structure of the Earth's crust. Which he couldn't for the life of him remember. "Okay, so, just so this doesn't turn into a free-for-all, if you've got a question, just wait til things are quiet." He tried to count. They had about twenty there. Around... half, maybe less, he recognised. Cael amongst them. He grinned at the swordsman. Their reunion had been rooted in little more than chance: but the man was formidable with a blade. A curious-looking titan of a man sat next to him with a grumpy furrow on his forehead.

Lazarus took a deep breath and begun. "I'm guessing you know why we're here, all of you," That much should have been simple. He shrugged with a chuckle. "For those that don't, or for those that are confused by our motives, let me just clear things up right now." He threw his hands up. "The reason that you've flown, driven, fuck, maybe even walked or cycled here is simple. In roughly ten hours time, we're going to cross into Inferis, trek around half a mile towards a building in the Stygian Tundra's east." The teen grinned. Things were starting to get better. He'd found a sense of flow. "This is the Cocytian Manor, which we've got a good degree of intel on, both position and structure-wise." He paused. Maybe for a little touch of drama. "We're going to bust down the doors, cut our way through any defenses, move to the innermost quarters, and kill the Archdemon Moloch." And there it was. Plain as day.

Now, he chuckled nervously, tilting his head. "Obviously, this doesn't sound a particularly appealing proposition." He gestured out to his "audience". "You've all no doubt heard of the legendary powers of the Archdemons as rulers of their specific regions," Lazarus straightened his head back up and let his eyes narrow, and take on a cold and steely defense within their iridescent scarlet glow. "But we've got the mother of all plans for taking down Moloch." Anybody who had a sense for people would be able to tell that the simple-hearted boy from Montana, barely nineteen, meant every word of that, from the very core of his being.

First, he jerked a thumb to his chest. "My name's Laz Carter, and I run a group called Nephilim that some of you are members of." Then, the thumb pointed to his left, towards the Russian. "This is Alastor Azarov, and he runs the Irkutsk division. He'll walk you through the plan briefly." Then a thumb to the right. "This is Etreven, and he's the leader of anti-Archdemon group Greyscale." Lazarus was... mindful not to mention the demonic origin of some of the men and women here. Greyscale was... primarily Ritualist, and though sympathetic to their cause, some people here wouldn't appreciate it. "Like I say, we've got one hell of a plan, but it's going to take your strength, your faith, and, most of all, your presence tomorrow if we want to have a shot at taking down Moloch. We've done what we can, but it's nothing without all of you. " He then turned to Alastor and smiled to his audience, before stepping back. "I'll let Al take the floor."

Last edited by Lazarus Carter on Sun Sep 08, 2013 8:15 am; edited 1 time in total

However, before anything else, Al should post as Alastor, and then Irik as Etreven.

After that, everybody except the Angels may post.

On roughly September 14th, Uriel will announce the arrival of the Angels. Remember, Angels, you will all be in Mortal Form, in Irkutsk.

Finally, once the speech has finished - even before - do not hesitate to begin talking amongst yourself.

This Event should end roughly around the end of September, though may be extended, and will lead straight into #7, which will by default include everyone who posts in #6.

If you pre-establish a posting order with someone else as part of your festivities, don't break it.

We recommend you post once every three days, at least, to keep the pace of the mission relatively dynamic; more frequently, then even better! If you have more than one or two characters, then we recommend, due to workload, a post roughly once a week or once every ten days, though you can post as much as you like provided you aren't double-posting the same account!

"I'll let Al take the floor." There was no doubt in the Russian's mind that this entire ordeal was perhaps the most serious one he had been in, well, up to this point anyway. He also knew he was likely about to get into a load of shit, a cesspool have you. Alastor had only tackled small demons, mere minions of these great beasts known as archdemons. These lords, princes of Hell they were called in Inferis and otherwise really, had unfathomable power. They could level cities with a snap of their fingers, kill people by simply looking at them, change the climate of the entire Earth, he had heard many stories of their monstrosities. Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Legion...there were many names he had heard, and today's focus was Moloch. He got that. He listened to the speech his new found comrade just gave, though, possibly with half a wit as he had already discussed this plan with him a tad prior. Earlier's 'cigarette' still had it's effects going pretty nicely, and one could easily say the dark blue haired individual was spaced out. So his name was called, and Laz's speech ended with a powerful motivational line.

The young adult didn't get up at first, instead leaning towards the red headed teenager. He spoke in a soft tone, one that wouldn't be heard by the rest of the crowd outside of the three. "Yo, lemme borrow Gareth for a sec." Rather quickly, the Demon Hunter was handed the weapon, if only for a short while. Weapon, right, well that wasn't exactly what it was. Turning a final glance towards Etreven, the military dressed Ritualist whom he had only just met. He was a contrast to the two others, who seemed to be nothing but average college kids, party-goers at that. This man was not that, he was dressed sharply and officially, even his posture was to the point. Well, for whatever reason, Al simply trusted this man, though he was bonded with "the enemy". He had goals, he had motivation, and he certainly had ambition. All those traits were good in Alastor's book. After this extended glance which seemed to last for the longest few seconds of his life, the hunter rose to his feet with a short sigh.

"Alright gentlemen. This right here is-"Setting the golf club aside next to the white board, the young daredevil grabbed a blue marker and began to draw a line, only for it to fade out and run out of ink almost immediately. The marker was quickly tossed to the ground without a care, and a red one was picked up instead. Damn junkyard supplies. He continued on with the line, yet didn't finish his sentence, not wanting to be embarrassingly cut off by himself a second time. A large rectangle was drawn. So large, in fact, that it was basically just the border of the white board. "This right here is the Cocytian Manor." Right, most, well some, probably had no idea what that was. A description was likely necessary. Man, it'd been a while since he had to give a speech. "It's where our target resides, Moloch. it's said the place is made entirely of ice...so if any of you happen to have a big ass flamethrower or something as an Evocation, that'd be great, and it will help, but melting the place isn't the plan." His accent was heavy, yet he was attempting to tone it down to a more understandable level. Fluent English wasn't a problem, but still.

A second rectangle was drawn, almost as large as the first. It was apparent that this would be the final form of the diagram, as the hunter placed the marker back in it's respective place, unlike the previous discarded one. "This is Moloch." With a firm tap from the newly picked up Gareth, Al pointed to the large figure with a straight face. He paused, as surely the large crowd would congregate after hearing this, and possibly because he just wanted to look at them. They came in all shapes and sizes, all races and nationalities. Some...some, came a little off to him. A strange man dressed in a suit of grey, a blonde girl in Victorian style, and a tall man with a head of brown and well kept hair...and alongside them yet two more mysterious figures, one appearing dreary and one aloof, these people gave off a strange essence. They unnerved Alastor, they sat in the back of the room, they didn't really bother to start conversation like the others, and finally, they did not appear shocked. Ritualists, probably.

"Yes. It would be wise to assume that relative to the diagram of the Manor, this is actual size." He said, as if answering everyone's thoughts at once, and simultaneously breaking his stare on the ones in the back. Now his golden eyes looked back and forth through the crowd, many of these faces he didn't know, but it was amazing that such support turned up. How many people knew about Inferis, anyway? A lot more than he previously thought, that's for sure. "We'll get to the fun details of how we're going to bring down such a massive beast later, for now, we have to get in the stronghold in the first place." The hunter was on a roll now, a confident smirk overtook his face. The golf club now pointed to the outer rectangle, the one to represent the bastion.

"After a bit of discussion, we figure that access is pretty much limited to the first floor. While there are windows..." Alastor paused for a moment. "We figure them death traps. You can only get in one at a time, and after you're in, you can bet like ten ice demons are going to slaughter your ass. So let's use our heads and not do that." His sarcasm was starting to show through the professionalism, a sign that he was becoming more relaxed with the crowd by the minute. "Seeing how mansions are typically set up, I can bet you that there's only one way in and out from the bottom." A short sigh. "And with recently gathered information from my new friend here," Al gestured towards Etreven with the driver. It was a fun thing to wield. No wonder Lazarus carried it around. "This is correct. The only way to get through the first floor is to barge the fuck in and fight our way through hordes of nasty shit until we get to the stairs around the outside of the building, which comes up to the second floor." Another sigh. This one was troubled, unlike the rest. "Annnnnd we have no fucking clue what's on the second floor, so be prepared for the worst."

Alastor stepped forward, not yet done with the plan. There was still much to discuss. "The manor is thankfully symmetrical, which we can use to our advantage. We split up in a few teams, which will be figured out here in a bit, and send not one, but a couple to each side of the building. A common flanking maneuver, if you will." Gareth found itself pointing to the sides of the rectangle. No further marks were made, so it might of gotten a bit confusing to anybody who wasn't paying close attention. "You can bet your candy-ass that this place is well guarded, so hit em' with everything you got. And do it fast. We don't want reinforcements showing up...untimely." Yet another sigh. It was obvious it was how he broke into another topic. "Some of you will stay outside to take further measure that this doesn't happen."

A pause. This was the longest one of them all, perhaps because Al didn't know where he was going next. Shit, he totally fumbled the speech, or so he thought, as the next time his mouth opened words simply flowed out, "Next, we all pile inside while a few of our more defensive guys defends our asses, as you can bet those demons will be at our heels every turn of the way, and the real fun begins. The moment we've all been waiting for." He raised Gareth towards the ceiling, towards the sky, and towards the Heavens with a powerful pose. "We're gonna take that big motherfucker right down to the ground!" His voice boomed with confidence like never before, even he believed his own words. They were going to do this.

"Now that sounds easy enough, sure, but like I mentioned before, he's a big ass demon." The makeshift pointer was lowered to this side, lightly tapping the ground, after all, he didn't want to dent Laz's little friend or anything. "So in order to even hope pulling this off...we're going to need some of you to distract him. Run for your life, call him names, be loud, just get his attention and take it off of the assault team." The next part of the plan. "The assault team, if the distraction team is successful, will then attempt to climb the behemoth and shove all of our bullets and swords and whatever you might have into his joints, which will hopefully, bring him down. Even this will only weaken Moloch." The archdemon's power was not to be messed with. A pure physical assault would result in nothing but bloodshed. That's why there was another plan. Every demon had a weakness. While Alastor initially thought lopping his head off would be the easiest way, his comrades begged to differ, pointing out the fact that his neck could be meters in thickness and cutting it off would be no simple or quick task. After a little field research, by dangerous watching the beast from afar, the trio discovered that the being holds some sort of bright flame upon it's back, inside of whatever structure was built upon it. This had to be significant, I mean, if you played any video game you would know that the bright glowing thingy was the weak point.

"Upon the beast's back a large flame is lit, from what we've gathered. The endgame goal is to extinguish this, which will hopefully put em' down for good." There was still no certainly that this would work, as it was a mere guess, but hopefully a damn lucky one. If it didn't work, well, a retreat would have to be attempted. The Demon Hunter didn't want to mention this at this point, hoping to have fired the crowd up with his passionate words and well put together plan. At least it was in his mind. Almost anticlimactically, Al returned the club to it's original owner and spoke a single line before returning to his seat, awaiting for the swarm of questions, and possibly speeches, to begin. "That currently concludes our plan, lest Etreven here has anything to add."

They had filtered into the makeshift meeting space in ones and twos and with a steady, unflinching gaze Etreven had watched each of them enter. Eyes locked as each passed through the doors and into that large, makeshift meeting hall they had so hastily arranged. It had been something of a long morning preparing the dilapidated space and the lack of functional heat was perhaps the worst of the problems they'd been unable to mitigate. Was it perhaps telling that they couldn't even manage to heat this place? After all, they intended to douse a flame that had burned since the time of the fall. It wasn't that it worried him, he was scarcely capable of worry, but he was very much capable of reading warning signs. If it had been appropriate, he might have smirked. Even failure would go accordingly to plan, but it was useful to know where the tolerances of such a plan could be stretched.

There was camaraderie and a not insignificant of trust at play to fill a room like this. Eyes told him the stories of individuals as they passed, many full of anger or worry or general concern, they spoke about the things they had seen and the things they expected to see. Many he recognized immediately, their descriptions and appearances matching quite closely. Others however held identities he could only guess at, and if he'd felt a thing it probably would have been trepidation. In this place he was exposed and there were many unknown variables among this crowd. More to the point, he must have struck an odd addition to the largely ragtag assortment present here, fastidiously pressed uniform blacks (clearly military but unidentifiable) complementing his smooth yet structured way of moving. Whatever the unknown motivations of those unrecognized few, ultimately all ran accordingly to plan still. Presumably amongst the friends and allies would be representatives of the Butterfly, and with luck that particular thread would play out as he expected (though if the current gambit failed, there were always other options).

Etreven continued his assessment of the gathered individuals while Lazarus stammered his way into a speech. "I'm guessing you know why we're here, all of you?" It wasn't his strongest point, but it seemed to serve him well enough. Considering the extent and usefulness of the Nephilim organization, he knew better than to think Lazarus was an unskilled orator. He had no interest in this particular motivational speech, rather he was far more interested in what the others had to say. What their questions would be and how he could answer them in a way best suited to his use, that would have his interest. Until then it was just a matter of letting the boys play at their speech craft and act sufficiently engaged.

It had been an interesting and revealing search, uncovering the man behind the Nephilim organization. The man was driven, but not specifically ambitious. His magnetism came, as far as Etreven could see, from the sort of synergy he experienced with fellow hunters. This was a man who believed in the value of human life, and from what he knew of the young man's history? That particular fact was rather unsurprising. As he spoke, Etreven took the time to look back across the handful of faces that gave him some pause. His eyes lingered briefly on a figured bundled in a veritable pile of coats before moving on to a rather unassuming if elderly man in the back. "I sense something; a presence I've not felt since…" Ymir had chosen to speak up, which usually meant he was either amused or interested. Either way, the demon's words were interrupted as the other demon hunter grabbed what appeared to be a golf club and stood, gaining Etreven's attention for at least a few moments.

If it had been important, Ymir would have finished the sentiment, but as it was they both were spending more time thinking about the people before them than the plan at hand. They both knew the details Alastor was extolling. He'd even contributed a portion of the intelligence that had gone into the plot. As a matter of relevant fact his organization had been uniquely well suited to the task, having made a point of constructing its forward base in the midst of Molloch's lair. It was a reasonable plan for a motley crew. An unlikely one, a plan with unreasonably great risks, but ultimately not entirely outside of plausibility. Suddenly, in a great and booming voice, the momentum of Alastor's speech drew to a frenzy and his words drew the focus of everyone present. "We're gonna take that big motherfucker right down to the ground!" For a few moments Etreven toyed with the concept of success and what it would mean, dozens of moves on his internal chess board re-ordered. It would be a very interesting outcome indeed. Ymir, in the interim, rumbled with a deep and unpleasant chuckle. "Well isn't that quite the thought?" the demon's voice echoed in his head. And indeed it was.

Not much time had passed at all until his name was called, the pair knowing Etreven intended to add little. Greyscale would follow their lead so not much needed saying. Even so, Etreven was most certainly not a man of few words and took the clear opportunity to build rapport with the assemblage. He chose no expression, it wasn't needed in this moment, but he did choose to stand. Slowly rising to his feet, he buttoned top of his surcoat's buttons as he turned to look over and nod to the men in the matching chairs beside him. Unhurriedly, he cleared his throat and began to speak. "A great many of you do not know me and for that I apologize. I wish very much that we all had the opportunity to know one another before setting forth to such struggle. But know this friends and allies; we three stand here before you to bring about a change the likes of which has not been seen since Lucifer fell from the heavens. Among you stand members of the Greyscale Insurgency, and each of them knows first hand the meaning of that change. We will fight with you. We will fight with forethought and we will strike where and when Molloch is at his weakest. And I believe fervently that we will succeed."

In a calculated gesture, he tilted his head down gazing shoe ward, pausing for dramatic effect. When he turned his eyes back to the crowd he shook his head once softly then stepped back towards the chair. As he sank into it he spoke a final few words, "If you have any information to reinforce our plan, please do not hesitate to let us know. And if you have questions, you know who to ask." It would be some time yet to truly see the effect, but Etreven had confidence in his words, his abilities, his allies. And confidence truly became him.

Among the densely crowded warehouse, an elderly looking priest with an unnatural level of quiet and stillness. He was unflinching as the Russian and the young American spoke, his dark watery eyes merely taking in their movements, his mouth drawn up into a small serene smile. There would undoubtedly be those in the crowd that could smell him out, who could sense what he truly was... but for now, for now it was simply a joy to be surrounded by life, life untouched by the darkest parts of hell, life that didn't wish him immediate harm. In a way, it made him happy and envious, but he knew that his envy for the humans was dangerous, it was what led to the fall originally. But, he thought, but perhaps it is merely this comradely that I am so envious of...And why should I be envious? Am I not now a part of this? Am I not now among friends and allies? This did not, however, make him feel better for the body he was inhabiting. He did not approve of the act of possession, it felt wrong to take the body of another, willing or not, it hindered upon Free Will, it was a much darker gray than he generally preferred to walk into. The Czech, however, had assured him that this old frail body he inhabited now was a man otherwise too weak to even get out of his hospice bed alone. Apparently the old priest had powerfully similar feelings to the Czech and was more than willing to both have the chance to walk again and be of service to such a noble cause.

Speaking of the Czech, the charismatic man had now taken the grandstand, though his speech was significantly less grand and significantly more serious than that of the Russian with the golf club. He didn't speak to try to get these people into a zealous frenzy, he didn't speak to aspire them to hope beyond the reasonable, he spoke calmly, he spoke carefully, he spoke few words but they were effective. Though Lucifuge still felt their was something unknown behind those deep blue eyes, something perhaps...dangerous. Nonetheless it was not time now to question the man who made made him his Lieutenant, the man who braved the wastes to get him to join in this cause. He did, however, always keep one of his many eyes on the strange and silver tongued ritualist.

It was once the three members of the apparent leadership finished speaking that the demon's priestly shell walked forward to the front of the crown, rather small in frame though he somehow held himself as though he were many meters tall. He turned to face the assorted mass and coughed into his hand, the elderly voice box not used to speaking after many months of laying in a hospice bed. However as the priest spoke, a voice far older and far greater came forth, a voice that seemed to speak from distant and ancient times, a voice that somehow sounded to each man and woman to be their most favored tongue and yet somehow something different all together.

"Please, fellow soldiers, listen to my words. We stand upon a precipice, we walk a line between faith and foolhardiness , between absolution and oblivion, between elevation and damnation. We march towards an impossible goal because in our hearts we hold believe we can do the impossible.

I know many of you have braved the realms of Inferis, I am sure many of you have seen and done amazing and terrible things within those reaches. Know now that everything you have thus far experienced amounts to very little against the monstrous power of an Archdemon. This is a task for which there is no retreat, there is no escape, there is no second thoughts. Our actions today are, in the grand scheme of things, a very small step. The Archdemon Moloch, though mighty beyond words, is nonetheless, the least of their ranks in true power, in true influence. However a step nonetheless it is, for we are treading the path of righteousness, we are ridding the world of a small and petty evil whose rippling effect shall inspire many more like us to take up the cause. Though we may fall, though our bodies may fail, though there may be no hope, our actions today, the actions of men and women who had faith in an idea, those actions shall ring out like the voice of God. Those actions will show that we are not small, we are not few, we are not weak. Those actions will show that out there are those who are willing to take a stand against impossible odds, who are willing to take a chance to make a difference, who are willing to go the very depths of Hell to make this world a better place. You are the favored sons and daughters of the Lord, you are those for whom God banished Lucifer and his Rebel Host to Inferis for. From their dark pits they have reached out and corrupted this world, it is time for us to touch back, it is time for us to show them why God chose you over them. LET US GO FORTH, MY BROTHERS, LET US GO FORTH AND SHOW BOTH HEAVEN AND HELL WHAT MANKIND IS CAPABLE OF!"

In every spy's career you get offered some interesting operations. Sometimes they are grand in scale like walking into the Baghdad palace and yanking the president himself out of his chair and hiding him in the desert. Other times you get a simple op like meeting some informant but the information is still massively interesting. This op was a little of both. While he'd been briefed about what exactly they were walking into and it honestly was laughable. I mean, a meeting of young idiots with super powers and some para-military nut cases with demons stuck in their hearts. I mean, come on. This was a joke. These inexperienced kids were going to get themselves slaughtered. That wasn't his concern though. Nope, he was just there to play a part and lend a hand. It was for that exact reason that he had chosen the cover of 2nd Lieutenant Skyler Grehden, or Gray, or more commonly LT, as his buddies used to call him.

The man he was impersonating was once a real person. A SEAL. He was a ranged support and high value target specialist, in other words, a sniper. He'd known the LT years ago, before he shot the man in the desert. They had actually got along rather well. He'd done three separate operations with him prior to his untimely death. He had shared a few drinks wit the Tennessee native and many people commented on how similar the two of them looked. It had been like fate that the two of them had met. Only, Black didn't believe in fate. It had been him pulling strings that got the two of them together. Black had noticed how closely they resembled each other and set up a few ops with SEAL Team 3. He knew it would end with him killing the poor LT but hey, never stand in the way of progress.

Sitting in the driver seat of a small pick up truck that he managed to procure just outside the air port Black sat relax, one hand on the wheel as the snow whipped through the air around the truck. He had the heat cranked up and he could still feel the damned cold outside. Why the hell would people live here? I mean damn. It was cold enough outside that owning a freezer in this place would be redundant. He just hoped the meeting spot had heating. If not, well, he might just break out his M-14 early and heat the place up with a little muzzle flash and gun smoke. Not to mention the blood that would be all over the floor. Would warm it up nicely. No, that would be silly, ruin the whole op. Nope, never ruining another op, well, not one he wanted to succeed.

Black drew his left hand up and pushed it through his hair with a sigh. He felt the thick gloves pull across his scalp as his eyes watched the empty road. After a moment his blue eyes flick over to his passenger. His new contact, hell, new partner. He'd honestly never seriously worked with a woman as his partner before. It didn't really change much. Just made things slightly different. Mainly he had to keep remembering he was just here to curl up in front of some fire place and bone the night away. "So, what exactly was yer cover name again, Sparkles?" he was already in character, well mostly. His voice had been deepened slightly and he was throwing his Tennessee drawl around like it was just how he spoke. "That, an what exactly does El Jefe want us to accomplish here? I mean, 'm all fer tactical assistance but I just need t'whole story." he didn't look over as he spoke, nope, kept his eyes on the road. No reason to endanger themselves before they even get there. The weather was bad enough so he wasn't going to mess around. Plus, Russian driver were terrible. He need not give any response once she answered his question either. Here they were. Right in front of the meeting spot. Some out-of-the-way bum-fuck warehouse that obviously did not have fucking heat.

Black popped his door open and snatched his large duffle from the tiny excuse for a back seat. The bag was damned heavy. It held quite a great deal of stuff in it. He had his broken down rifle, ten pounds of C4, 300 rounds of steel core 7.62 high velocity rounds and 100 rounds of hollow point .44 caliber pistol rounds for his Samurai Edge, his tactical gear in general was in there. He toss ed the bag over his shoulder and moved across the wind swept expanse before the entrance. He had a black leather wool lined coat with a heavy hood but the cold still pushed through. Damn, this was going to be a long night. Black reached up and straightened his "U.S. NAVY" hat and popped a piece of cinnamon gum into his mouth, Gray's favorite brand. He cocked his hand to the right and offered a piece to his partner. "Gum Sparkles?" he said with a casual confidence, despite the cutting cold.

Pushing open the door and finding a seat in the main room was a small chore that took only a few minutes. He didn't take time to talk to any of these people. No, he expected he'd do plenty of talking in only a few moments. He found a seat where Ms. Wei could sit by him but he did not insist. If she wanted to play this separate he wouldn't mind. He knew how effective it could be to be perceived as alone. Then again, there was little more effective than the stance as an organization. Make sure that everybody knows that you aren't working alone and that people are expecting to see you come back, a good deterrence to being shot in the back. He had always preferred working with some kind of organizational backing. It always meant that you could count on support of some kind.

Black sat and chewed his gum. He looked on with a stern gaze as what appeared to be the leaders of this little group got up and spoke. Their looks told him a great deal about them. Maybe even more than they knew about themselves. Then again, this was his job after all. The first one, wow, what a disappointment. They guy had a little fire. Though, shouldn't he be the poster boy for some kind of cult or off going to fucking school? Oh man, great, the leader here didn't even have a fucking fully developed frontal cortex and HE was advocating the plan? Sweet. Black couldn't wait to here this bullshit death trap.

Next was the man with the plan. YAY! Another youngster with too much piss and vinegar to know when he sounded like an idiot. Swinging a golf club around like a yard stick and blathering out some asinine plan that had "Suicide" written all over it. He made sure to take a quick note of exactly how bad it was and waited for the next disappointment to hop up.

And hello there psudo-military jerk from the Third world. Black almost lost his composure as this uniform wearing guy starts going on about some kind of insurgency. He was pretty sure that had something to do with demons or whatever. He honestly didn't care. This wanna-be dictator asshole was standing there saying that his guys would totally be there once this giant super demon was weak. He'd heard shit like before. He was the personality cult head of some worthless guerrilla movement or something that would show up if everything went well or leave us to die if things looked bad. Never trust the local militia, ever. He learned the hard way. Also, never trust dick heads in uniforms that weren't even part of a real military. There was one reason you wore a uniform. To create unity and power. If you wore an Army uniform you identify yourself with the power of that organisation. If you wore a uniform and had no rank, well, you were trying to make up an some power and be a fascist fuck-up. Guys like that were infesting Africa and were a dime a dozen. Likely, this asshole was no different. Maybe smart, maybe tough, definitely untrustworthy and self absorbed. Easily the most dangerous of the three up there though. Maybe not the best in a fight but he would be the one to watch. Watch and put a round in his face if he looked a little betrayal-ish. He'd seen his type and wasn't going to fall for that shit.

Black took a deep breath and was about to speak when his entire world was interrupted by the weirdest sound mother fucker he'd ever heard. Not only was there just something really wrong with the way he sounded but he was some kind of old priestly guy. He had not been briefed on that. He did not expect to be working with crazy zealots. He honestly hated working with zealots. From Hassad to Rastafarians he couldn't stand them. All God this and God that. Oh, thank God that I'm such a calm guy or you'd be fucking deader than fried chicken. Black waited, painfully, for the idiot to shut his damned mouth and then cleared his throat and stood. "Wow." he said with a nod and chewed his gum audibly. "I don't think 've heard a plan that bad in a long time." he shook his head and adjusted his NAVY hat. "Listen guys, I know y'all are all rerrin' t'go get this sombitch, but, y'gotta think this through more." Black flexed his hand and chawed on his gum some more before continuing his speech. "Okay, so, yer plan is to charge in the front and back door and just shoot yer way through?" he looked on with skeptical eyes. "Now, that plan might work if we had, say, superior numbers, better training, gear, and coordination. However, I ain't seein' much in the way of man power here, an' I know y'all got magic powers an' all that but, don't the enemy got'em too?" Black stooped down and picked up his duffle bag and set it on the chair behind him. He unzipped it with a quick sweep of his hand brought out a vacuum wrapped pack of C4. "Now, I though y'all might be lackin' in firepower so I was nice enough to bring some o'my own." He help up the pale green pack of clay for all to see. "Now, back in my SEAL days were used to do stuff like this all the time." He stopped and chuckled. "Well, not exactly. Ana'way. Point is, we need to rely on surprise and overwhelming strike power. We need to hit'em so hard they can't get up." he tossed the C4 back into his bag and pointed up at the poorly drawn map on the white board. "Now, we blow a hole in the first floor wall on opposite sides plus have a small team bust down one of the main doors, now we got surprise. From there we'd need to make short work of the guards. That, or hell, tear t'whole place down on their ears." Black made a explosion noise and pantomimed the roof falling down, theatrics! "That likely won't kill big cold an-ugly but it'll take away his walls and give us a better shot at it. " Black held up his gloved hand displaying two fingers raised, his middle and pointer, "Secondly, was'all this shit 'bout just fightin' this guy head on 'till some body get's lucky and dumps some water on his fire. That's a death trap. Why not move back and engage from a distance? Have some guys leading him away from the main strike force. Then have some acrobatic team..." he paused and pointed around the room. "...I know som-a you are. Get it there and extinguish the guy. Jumpin' in with swords and guns sounds cool but i's a good way t'get yerselves killed dead. " Black looked around and nodded. He reached up and straightened his cap again before pulling his bag off his seat and plopping back down. "Thas'it from me." he waved his hand over his head and chewed his gum loudly. "Jus don' want us'all to die."

The truck bounced and rolled through the heavy snow around them. This wasn't a city of lights and noise and music like she was used to. No, this was the frozen bitter lands of the country that resided above her own in its great size. Russia. Sunglasses were pulled down over her eyes despite the time of the day it was, a big fur rimmed hood pulled over her head as she sat there hunkered into layer upon layer of jackets. It was really sort of comical. She was disguised beneath all of the coats, but she may as well be wearing a second one considering just how bulky she was. You…. could say that Wei Qing didn't travel very often to sub-zero cities in the middle of a snowy wasteland. Then again, this was hardly a vacation. It was…. a job. A job that was flipping a couple of triggers in her mind, but she had still accepted anyways because the Employer had ordered her to despite her misgivings. There was a potential for Firefly here, and she would obey his orders.

So today she was Jill Lawson, her auburn hair just barely visible from beneath the hood. Not that you could tell, but her legs were crossed as they were robed in the layers of thermals with green, thick cargo pants over them. "Your signal is harder to track in all of that snow." Of course it was. She sighed to herself as Duessa whispered in her ear, pulling the sunglasses off as she let them fall in her lap, leather gloves worthy of a biker, squinting her eyes a bit as she stared at the fading light outside. The outer coat was definitely wool, and was lined with a white-grey fur that could have belonged to a wolf. It wasn't really clear what species it was, hell she didn't even know if it was real. All she cared about was the fact that she was warm. Her eyes were revealed to be a lighter brown that complimented her hair, possibly like an amber or so.

Jill Lawson was a CIA agent in the US of A, and right now, she was investigating this large gathering of people that she had heard about. Though, she was just a mole for Firefly. Keeping an eye on the USA units that were scattered around the globe. Or some shit like that. "So, what exactly was yer cover name again, Sparkles?" Ugh. She never quite got used to hearing a Southern accent. For some reason it grated on her ears, but that meant that he was doing a good job of it. "Jill. Jill Lawson. Special Agent, but don't mention that unless you're planning to reveal I'm CIA." She answered rather relaxedly, glancing over with a little smirk though her partner was keeping an eye on the road which was always preferred to eye-to-eye contact for conversation. It was always so awkward in movies when they DIDN'T pay more attention to the road. "That, an what exactly does El Jefe want us to accomplish here? I mean, 'm all fer tactical assistance but I just need t'whole story."

Right. He hadn't been fully briefed. "We're here because the Employer wants to watch these events carefully, see if we should weigh in at all on either side. Or if we should do what we do best and remain hidden. We're to observe the various groups that are going to be there, and if need be, increase the likelihood of success. We've made contact with Etreven before, and we are not interested in pulling him into the group. We are doing this as a job for him, while getting to gain some intelligence for ourselves." She answered him as far as she was aware unless the Employer had told him something that he hadn't her which… would have been weird. She was his lieutenant. As they rolled up, she slipped the sunglasses into one of her pockets and opened the door (with some difficulty), her boots hitting the snow as she looked up at the warehouse. Awesome. The place was screaming tetanus if a fight broke out and improvised weapons were gonna get used. "Gum Sparkles?"

Wei Qing looked over at him, shrugging lightly as she took the offered piece. "Thanks LT." She spoke, following him inside as the gum burned in her mouth. Thankfully, she wasn't really planning on talking very much in this meeting. She was FAR more interested in seeing who was there, what she could find out, and what EXACTLY it was that Etreven was planning. She would be the first to admit, she looked a little bit ridiculous in her bundle of coats, but it was ensuring that she didn't freeze. She did take the seat, glancing around at those that were gathered about her. Lots of Ritualists here. Demon Hunters too. No Templars. Odd. Her brows furrowed a bit as she listened to the opening remarks, quietly chewing her gum in the least obnoxious way possible. She was walking that fine balance between being obvious, and not. But this cover was solid enough that the only one who could pose a real threat, would be Etreven. She had to choose very carefully whom she would be appearing as BECAUSE of him. Normally she might have chosen Rebecca. But considering his rather insistent search for her… It was not worth the risk.

While the others were speaking, her eyes kept flickering over to Mr. Black because she could sense the growing agitation in him. Her lips twisted downwards as she was finding herself feeling a sense of disappointment. For a man that used to be an agent, who considered himself a spy…. he wasn't doing very well right now at keeping his cool. Or perhaps it was just because she had worked with him, or knew how his brain was probably working. She had done rather extensive research on him when she had discovered he was joining Firefly. So when he spoke up, she turned to stare at him, thankful that her hood hid her features rather effectively. What… in the fuck… Well he's caught everyones attention. You sure he hasn't lost himself in his cover?No… No I'm really not. Was he out of his MIND?! He was completely disregarding their primary objective of observation and reconnaissance. Yes, they were to try That was her OTHER reason for choosing Jill. Her objectives aligned with their own. The differing point was who they reported to in the end.

Her body lurched up and took a step back as he pulled his duffle bag up onto the chair and opened it, her hood falling back as she was visibly startled. Aaaaall part of her persona. And maybe making sure that he didn't set off every warning bell in Etreven's head. He literally had NO idea who the hell they were messing with right now, and this was NOT wise if he wanted to ensure his survival. "Dude!" Her brown hair bounced about her head as she stared at him in fear, praying that he would realize this was an act. She kept glancing from him, to the bag, to the board, to the rest of the room, back to him, to the bag, to him, then the leaders…. Namely, she kept staring at Etreven. Once Black was finished, she slowly, hesitantly sat back down next to him, pulling her hood back up and over her head while leaning forward. Clearly, her cover wasn't really wanting to stay here anymore. She would much rather be watching from somewhere else if possible, but she had to be here in person. She had been requested, and ordered to be here. At this point, she may have to operate alone since he had established himself so. Sitting herself up, she huddled more into her jackets, leaning over to whisper in his ear low enough for just him to hear, "Lets go Lone Wolf on this. We'll have opportunities to share what we've learned."

They were separate agents to begin with, that was why their organization operated as well as it did. It also meant they could cover different ground because she was sure that because he had established himself as a very gung-ho, military sort of man, that may attract certain members of the crowd (or paint a big red target on his back). She was plotting a more friendly approach, generally slipping in with relative ease. She had chosen to leave her weapons elsewhere that Duessa had prepared for her. She was sure Hornet would have his own additions waiting for her in Inferis once they actually enacted whatever plan was happening here. So for now, she just sat back and listened, trying to find the right moment when she could approach Etreven and let him know who she was because she was sure that would catch his attention some.

_________________

Chinese (Mandarin) [crimson]Chinese (Cantonese) [firebrick]English [cyan]Japanese [darkorchid]Korean [red]Demon [mediumpurple]Binary (Mostly reading and speaking while at a computer. Or with the computer. Or... yeah.)

Duessa, her AI, speaks in "Chinese (mandarin)".

Hornet speaks in Demon (blueviolet) with italics when in her mind. He also can speak Chinese (Mandarin) (mediumturquoise), Chinese (Cantonese) (mediumorchid), Japanese (indianred), Latin (gold), Korean (mediumslateblue) and English (white). He also understands binary (blue) as well.

The alarm hadn't woken him up. He hadn't even heard it going off, if it had gone off at all. No, he'd been woken up by what sounded something like a small whirlwind tearing through the apartment he shared with his girlfriend. He was a natural slow riser, particularly when he'd played it smart and went to sleep early enough to really let REM set in. Kira on the other hand…to be honest Petri wasn't sure she actually slept at all. With the speed her brain moved, he wouldn't be surprised if she came to him some day with a study she'd conducted on her own mind regarding the results of long term sleep deprivation on a genius. Though in all seriousness he let awareness of the room wash over him slowly, taking in the frantic mutterings of the girl he happily shared a life with.

She was rambling about what to take, what would be useful at a planning meeting, whether or not the notes on her second-to-most-recent physics lecture regarding solid mass displacement were going to be useful, which led to a whole separate diatribe about force/mass ratios, disrupted by a sudden realization she'd forgotten to wear socks. Even half asleep Petri found it adorable, and with a yawn he slowly stood up from bed, clad only in boxers and a smile. He turned around slowly, running a hand through his hair and beamed at her. "Good morning dear." he said, unhurriedly.

Petri's gear had been packed the night before, a rather difficult task considering how little information they had to run on. The Nephilim was loosely organized and that worked well for his purposes, but sometimes it was necessary to be well briefed on the tasks at hand. Particularly in situations where blowing large things up was likely to be a thing. The explosives and chemical weapons were ready for transport, but that wouldn't be necessary for another…twelve hours, by the wall clock. As for Kira, he was sure that as well prepared she was, she'd still be changing the packing order right up until they walked out the door. Her obsessiveness and attention to detail were extremely endearing, and generally meant she caught mistakes he made before he actually made them.

It wasn't long before they were cab-bound for the warehouse they'd both been given as a meeting place. It made Petri somewhat nervous to be present for a meeting between the Nephilim and the Blades, particularly considering his and Kira's conflicting associations, but his loyalty was to her first and the organization second. Those nerves were dulled somewhat by the knowledge that a working relationship between the two groups could be a positive one, and with that in mind he stepped out of the cab to traverse the poorly kept sidewalk up to the side door of the meeting place. He'd dressed himself in thermals, a printed shirt, a hoodie, a pair of black cargo pants and a parka to cover all bases, March being one of the less pleasant winter months this far north. He expected little from the building's facilities, so preparation for weather was absolutely necessary. Aside from warm clothing he'd brought nothing else along. There would be time to pick up gear before they undertook the mission, but Kira was another case entirely.

The room wasn't yet packed as they arrived and he scouted out a pair of seats somewhere about midway through the room. He wasn't going to oblige her to sit with him, but it'd probably be for the best since they weren't the focus points of the conversation (and Kira was definitely going to itch to contribute!) As he waited for the meeting to start he looked over the three leaders and the rest of the assembled crowd. He'd spent a good deal of time with Alastor, and knew Lazarus through correspondence, but the third figure was harder to pin down. Russian military, probably. The uniform wasn't right, but he recognized the style quickly enough, and the brass hereabouts weren't too fond of independent startups. The rest of the crowd was trickier. He knew a handful of Nephilim, either by face or description, but there were certainly others. More military types, a couple of shady characters he couldn't place at all and oddest of the bunch, a pair of elderly priests, practically identical looking. It was a colorful cast to say the least, but he trusted Alastor and the judgement of the Nephilim or else he wouldn't be here.

Considering the subject matter, when the speeches actually began there was a palpable energy in the room. This was either going to be a great day in the history of demon hunters at large, or it was going to be a colossal failure and presuming the former was a much more powerful motivator than the latter. As it stood, the plan was relatively crude but potentially effective if there were more waiting in the wings to fight. This number was sizable (and probably quite potent when in Inferis) but it wouldn't be enough. When the military man spoke, it was hard to pin down quite what he felt. He'd been involved in enough ops to feel off put by the cult of personality he presumed underlined his so-called Insurgency, because his style smacked of political leadership and not military. Granted his experience had been with a different organization, but the alarm bells rang all the same. Still, his faith held. Motives aside, if the man could deliver the support they needed? So be it.

He'd presumed it would be chaos once they opened the field to questions, but the assemblage managed to keep discussion reasonably orderly. Might have been because those who chose to speak were so…strange and captivating. But sure enough the room kept quiet. The priest was a zealot, that was for certain. But it wasn't entirely clear to whom the zealot was loyal, apart from possibly God, and God certainly hadn't given Petri too many reasons to be interested in his goings on. Still, as the man spoke he kept his eyes on Kira, knowing she had to be absolutely enthralled by the strange voice the man utilized.

And then came the American's turn. He hadn't even seen him enter the room, but the cap was an obvious giveaway. Either the man was a US Navy SEAL or wanted to pretend to be one. Irrespective, he'd come packing quite the arsenal which put Petri on edge. Who brings live munitions to a planning meeting? His brain took a moment to click over into English, particularly considering the accent he was trying to understand. His manner was brusque, straight forward and beyond condescending. SEAL or not, this was a man who generally gave orders and didn't follow them and that made him a potential liability. Undermining the authority of leadership in front of those excepted to follow was a recipe for disaster. More to the point, he seemed all flash and little substance. Particularly his diatribe about "Blowing a hole in the first floor wall on opposite sides,". He made a very useful point regarding striking from a distance and engaging in a more acrobatic maneuver to take the beast down, a task he knew would most likely fall to him and Kira, but he let the man finish before taking the opportunity to speak. He barely noticed the walking bundle of coats nervously watching the Navy man as he turned to Kira. "He's liable to get all of us killed with his demo plan. I'm sure there's plenty to talk about, but give me a minute to explain the problem first?"

He smiled at the woman before turning to face the SEAL wannabe, coughed once and regained his usual serious and stoic disposition before speaking. His English was accented, a strange hybrid favoring Finnish flavor but with a substantial infusion of Russian. "Petri Ovaska, Irkutsk cell of the Nephilim. I don't believe you gave your name, but you're here so I'll call you brother. But I have to make it clear, if we demolish any structure without having made sure we know how the structure will come down then we're inviting murphy's law." It was absolute truth, and years as a demolitionist had taught him just how badly demo work can go when it isn't well planned for. Worst though was that they had only one shot at an explosive entrance. Once you set off your charges…"We'll only get one shot at blowing our way in, we should save it for when it counts best. Once it goes off, we'll have all of the Archdemon's forces down on us."

A beat and he took a moment to glance back at Kira before returning eye contact with the other man. "But you make a good point about striking from a distance and the need for acrobatics. I think Kira and I have that last bit covered. But we all have reason to put faith in our leadership, why don't we let them do their jobs and we'll do ours?" He chanced getting on the man's bad side, but he was more concerned for practicality and morale than the feelings of one stranger.

Cael's eyes moved across the room from his seat next to Bastian. There were the obvious show-ups, his friend Lazarus and the rest of his Nephilim buddies. The girl, Kira, he had met, along with her partner. He had no clue as to whether the two of them were married or not, but it showed promise that the two of them were able to live at least semi-normal lives while outside of Inferis.

The swordsman's attention was caught once Laz began to make his speech. Inspiring, to say the least, but not so much so that one couldn't tell he wasn't used to this sort of thing. The next up was the Russian cell leader. The plan he proposed wasn't exactly top notch, but it would work with their numbers. Then the leader of the Greyscale Insurgency, whatever that was, took the floor. Cael wouldn't trust his sort on a whim, but considering who they would be facing soon enough... Well, anyone was an ally if they wanted to see the great Moloch taken down as well.

The priest's speech definitely rang true throughout the warehouse, his warnings of the great power of an Archdemon being nothing to belittle. Cael knew he was right, but the next to speak didn't seem like he knew which way was up to tell the truth. Standing, the swordsman placed a hand upon Bastian's shoulder, and then pointed to the diagram on the whiteboard.

"You take pride in your explosives and ammunition, but don't think for a second that any of this will be enough to prepare for a battle against a Hell Prince." He stepped around the seats and pointed to Kira. "If we are going to take down Moloch, we will need speed, maneuverability." A smile, and then he turned to Lazarus.

"The Blades have headed your call, and let it be here that we announce our presence. I have faced the great Belial, can any of you say to have met an Archdemon and crossed swords with them?" He looked down at his open palm before closing his hand into a fist. "Their power is earth shattering, nearly every bone in my body was broken from blocking a single strike. I was then healed by him only to be forced to participate in a tournament within his coliseum a month later. If this proves anything, it is that none of this is more than a game to them. They do not take our presence seriously."

The green-haired man held his fist out, "All of you here today have answered to a calling, and no matter what the reason, do you not want for them to fear us as we have them for millennia?" He smirked and pounded a thumb to his chest. "I, for one, would love nothing more. My heritage as a Hunter screams for me to slay these beasts, and it is a howl which I have yet to ignore, nor will I ever do so. I propose that, if we were to use these explosives, that we separate into two groups. One to strike from behind, and the other," He paused and closed his eyes momentarily, his smirk turning into a stern, cold expression upon their opening, "The other will storm the front gate. This will give us an advantage, having two forces flank from both ends, they will have to separate their own soldiers as well."

He turned back to Lazarus, his eyes piercing the boy. This would be where the child would prove himself a man to the samurai. "And don't believe for a second that this Moloch will not be prepared for when we make our move. The demons at his disposal are probably far more dangerous, far more terrifying, than anything you've yet to come up against."

"I know its just a meeting for planning but should I…." Kira hadn't really slept that night. She'd been too busy performing some last minute changes to both of their Grappling Gear to really want to. In reality, she hadn't noticed that it was about 4am when she DID finally slip quietly into bed. Or had she really slept? She wasn't sure. When she did wake up again, her mind had been too awirl with what this meeting could entail to be able to go back to sleep. "No. No new things. Or should I? We are facing an archdemon, but who KNOWS whose going to be there and…" Her voice fell again as she began mumbling quickly and quietly to herself, already dressed in her Inferis uniform with the straps already positioned over her body. She was wearing a longer black coat, however, since they were going to be moving and sitting around in the cold.

The sound of stirring from the bed caused her to whip about and fall immediately quiet as she stared at her boyfriend who was only just waking up this moment. "I'm sorry dear! I hope I didn't wake you! I'm just caught in such a conundrum of what to bring, and I was trying not to wake you. Because from what Cael and Bastian told me it sounds like a big deal and OPPORTUNITIES! But thats beside the point--" "Good morning dear." She fell quiet and only smiled, walking over to peck him affectionately on the cheek. "Good morning." And just like that, the storm of her mind settled and she snatched up an extra few things to stuff into her pack. Despite how much trouble she was having trying to figure out what would and would not be best to bring, she had things that she knew would be essential and could not be left behind at all.

Soon enough they were in the cab, having to stop herself from turning back around to walk up the stairs to their apartment to grab something else at LEAST twice before finally getting in. No. They were prepared. They had what they needed. But…. THE POSSIBILITIES!! This was going to be her FIRST TIME EVER GETTING TO GET CLOSE TO AN ARCHDEMON!!!!! Kira was THE MOST excited. If there was anything that she wanted, she wanted to be able to study an Archdemon. They were the epitome of demon life forms, and were also the bases from which all other demons came from and there were simply so many possibilities of what she could find!! Especially considering how each one was so unique to where they were right now, what they had been before, and just EEEEE!! She loved to examine and learn more about demons, and one of the things that this mission screamed at her? It was that she would be able to hopefully capture and examine ALL OF THE DEMONS EVER. Well, not literally, but certainly more than a few. Oooo, maybe she could even actually CAPTURE one or two!! That would be so amazing….

Startling as the door opened, she climbed out after Petri, wandering inside after him with her pack slung over her shoulder. The two did sit together while everyone else filed in, the thought not even coming to Kira that maybe that wouldn't be the best of plans. Her mind was too busy pondering what sorts of species might be found close to Moloch to really think of much else. Its also why she ended up missing a decent amount of the speeches, certainly until Alastor began to speak about what his plans were. Toppling him? Flame on his back? The only thing that that succeeded in doing was setting her mind off racing again as she thought about what that could actually mean biologically. Clearly it had to be related to his life force as they were all assuming, but how exactly was that a thing for the great demon of the ice wastelands?! It was so contradictory! You'd think he'd melt his own palace! Unless it burned with no real heat? Was it related to Mammon's pups and the flames that they emitted? The Barghests. Ooo! Or maybe the--- "Wow. I don't think 've heard a plan that bad in a long time."

She sat up a bit more and blinked, having not realized she was staring blankly ahead at the white board without actually being aware of what was going on. "Now, that plan might work if we had, say, superior numbers, better training, gear, and coordination." Her ears perked up as she straightened up with a jolt in her chair. "I've got gear." She spoke, though it certainly wasn't loud enough to be heard except by those closest to her which were Petri, Cael, and Bastian. As she listened, she realized he was American. Southern by his accent. Use of lingo and obvious outfit dictated Navy Seal. But her Petri leaned over to her, and so she quieted and blinked a bit. "He's liable to get all of us killed with his demo plan. I'm sure there's plenty to talk about, but give me a minute to explain the problem first?" Kira nodded once, knowing if there was any expert on explosives in the crowd, it would be her man. It was a fact of some pride to her, and so she couldn't help but smile a little bit as he explained the faults of simply blowing holes willy nilly. Aside from structural integrity, any force of explosion could set off any traps that the Archdemon may have set up, and there wasn't enough information about what kinds of demons were inside. It may end up agitating and hurting them rather than helping.

But that wasn't all her love was going to say. From behind her goggle-glasses, Kira stared up at him when he glanced back to her again, then looking around at the crowd once her name was mentioned. However, she didn't interject, how could she? She wasn't about to interrupt him. "But you make a good point about striking from a distance and the need for acrobatics. I think Kira and I have that last bit covered. But we all have reason to put faith in our leadership, why don't we let them do their jobs and we'll do ours?" She may get excited and prone to interjection in most situations, however this was not one of them. Too many unknown variables, and she wasn't going to put it past risking something getting back to the Templar Order. Pretentious pricks. "You take pride in your explosives and ammunition, but don't think for a second that any of this will be enough to prepare for a battle against a Hell Prince." So many voices! She turned to look at Cael before startling a little at being pointed at. Her eyes scattered like beans from a bag at the entirety of the crowd as their attention shifted towards her. "If we are going to take down Moloch, we will need speed, maneuverability." Now was not the time to request the ability to study or capture any demons for study. All this crowd wanted was retribution and death, not to learn more about them like she did. It was rather sad actually.

"Um…" Kira cleared her throat and stood up, waving with a weak smile to all before a more professional expression came over her. "Kira Unterberger of the Four Blades. Yes, I have developed two prototypes that Petri and I both use that are optimal for speed, maneuverability, grappling, and potentially dealing with large objects as we are." She glanced around and swallowed, suddenly reminded of when she gave papers or presentations at conventions except this was somehow more… unsettling. "I would like to remind what sorts of beings we may run into when inside. Undoubtedly some of the Hegvelm Shel Qerh, or Frost Golems, Toothed Horrors, I seriously doubt any Tundra Eyes, though maybe on the way there?" She began talking faster, "Samsara Shape Apes which are like these giant mountains with big caves for mouths. Rather distinctive, though considering how large Moloch is, they could be inside. Ice Spiders are very common, and will undoubtedly come in hordes if encountered. Never expect them alone. Stone Tusks which are like smaller less hairy Mammoths. Ice worms which are bigger than you'd think. Gotta watch your footing for that one. And as with any Archdemons, cultists. Look for people in Fur and a passion for the large creature. Those are just common ones, though I wonder what sorts he might have hidden. Not like I've had a chance to scout inside his palace!" She grinned and chuckled a little, blinking a few times before clearing her throat again. Shit. She went off again. "Just some things to consider. I can give more details about them if required." She added a bit quieter, the pacing of her voice slowing back down to what she had started with before she fell quiet entirely. Slowly the hopeful scientist sat back down, glancing over to Petri while biting her lower lip. She was just relieved she hadn't asked to the entire crowd if it was alright to capture some for her own, personal study.

Her brother was standing with his two "comrades" at the front of the room with the seats spread out in the warehouse in front of them. Was she sitting out in the rest of the crowd? Fuck no. Maeve had chosen to stand off towards the side closest to her brother. It wasn't that she expected someone to start a fight (they'd be an idiot to do so, but she wasn't about to put it past people), she just…. Well… He was important. She'd already left him be for the first 19 years of his life, she wasn't about to fail at keeping her promise of sticking around. She just… ARGH. THIS FUCKING MEETING. When she heard just what EXACTLY they were all planning, she had felt her hairs go on end. It wasn't cause it was fucking cold here (though it was), or because that Czech seemed to be a military nut of some sort (least he wasn't a Templar). No, it was because they decided to go after a fucking Archdemon. She wasn't even in Inferis and her eye was aching.

Her mouth was formed into a thin line of distaste as she leaned up against the wall, one foot pressing into it while her arms remained folded over her chest. She was wearing pretty much the same coats as the last time that she was here, but now was at least down to her fleece lined leather jacket. The neck of her turtle neck still peeked up beneath her face, red hair flowing unrestrained about her shoulders. She was, however, wearing a beanie cap this time, black to match the rest of her, but her face remained unobstructed from view. It was obvious she wasn't the most thrilled like so many others were to be here. Those emerald depths followed each new person that came in the door, some of which she recognized from Laz's description, some she had met, most she hadn't, and some far more creepy than others.

She was restless, and all she could do was stand there and wait. Observe. Because like hell was she leaving her brother alone to undergo this task. He hadn't been there. He hadn't known. He hadn't…. She winced and grunted softly under her breath as Lazarus and Alastor gave their speeches, a hand running along the scar over her left eye, watching them as they each gave their speeches. She watched as Etreven spoke so little, explaining his little organization and their goals. A group that wanted to take down the Archdemons? Pfft. Don't make her fucking laugh. There weren't nearly enough in his group alone to do it, it was why he had reached out to all of them. Some "Insurgency" right? But everyone…. They were being so self-fucking righteous! Did they not seriously realize the threat that this was? The real seriousness of this situation? Because there was talking about it. And there was being there.

Her eyes lowered down to the ground as her hand folded back over her arm, frowning at the odd voice that the priest used. Fucking Ritualist. There could be no other option. What WAS this even?! Since when did they team up with so many Ritualists anyways? Was Lazarus even thinking what would happen if the Archdemons were to fall? Who would then take their places of power? Despite it being Inferis, and the fact that demons were certainly their enemies, there was definitely a delicate balance that was maintained there. And this…. GAH. Her lips twisted again in disgust as her stomach churned at all the thoughts being tossed about as to the best course of action for this mission. Explosions? Structural Integrity? Combat readiness? A fucking Navy Seal was now the goddamn expert on how to handle demons?! DON'T MAKE HER FUCKING LAUGH. Her teeth gritted tighter and tighter within her mouth as she heard more and more getting tossed in. She couldn't even look at the crowd anymore, and instead stared very pointedly at the ground, a neutrality coming over her features. Her foot came off of the wall behind her and rested against the ground, quietly beginning to tap in its agitation.

And then one voice spoke. "The Blades have headed your call, and let it be here that we announce our presence. I have faced the great Belial, can any of you say to have met an Archdemon and crossed swords with them?" Her eyes shot open as her head raised, immediately glaring at the source of them. Her scar burned to the point of her hands clenching, an event that had never, EVER happened outside of Inferis. "Their power is earth shattering, nearly every bone in my body was broken from blocking a single strike. I was then healed by him only to be forced to participate in a tournament within his coliseum a month later. If this proves anything, it is that none of this is more than a game to them. They do not take our presence seriously."

The hackles (if she had them) were standing on complete edge on the back of her neck as she straightened up from the wall and faced the audience from her place off to the side of the trio of leaders. He DARED to presume? It was the last fucking straw. "And don't believe for a second that this Moloch will not be prepared for when we make our move. The demons at his disposal are probably far more dangerous, far more terrifying, than anything you've yet to come up against." The way he stared at her brother… That was a challenge. A DIRECT challenge to him, and her finger began to tap against her arm while some other woman spoke. This wasn't about gear. This wasn't about skill. This was about this being a fucking shitty idea in the first place.

"We've all hunted or been around demons shithead. Don't talk so high and fucking mighty." She snapped, speaking to Cael directly. An edge had slid into her voice, its tone lower than normal as she glared at him with emerald fire. "You're right. Archdemons see us as fucking bugs. Pests. Annoyances. We're fucking toys to them. Your own fucking idiocy for trying to go against Belial ALONE in the first place." She snapped, the volume of her voice raising as she continued to glare at the leader of the Blades. "The only reason this might have ANY chance in Heaven or Hell of working is because there are so many here. If this were any group alone, you'd all fucking die." And now she scoffed, staring at the men and women that had gathered here. "I watched a squad of eight Demon Hunters with countless years of experience and knowledge get utterly decimated by Mammon. She marked me while my father lay dying in my arms. We've all lost something because of Inferis, whether its Archdemon or not. So you're right Mr. Samurai. This ain't going to be some fucking picnic."

The fire that had ignited behind her eyes dimmed slightly as she turned to look at her brother, her arms folding back over her chest as she leaned against the wall. "We'd better all work together, and work together well or all the planning in the fucking world won't work. I still have my doubts it will. So how about we all take the sticks out of our asses and actually get this shit done?" The rage in her had subsided, now staring back down at the ground sated for the moment. She had never told her brother about their dad, about why he had died. About who had scarred her face, or the fact that she really hated this idea. At the end of this…. she was expecting he'd want to talk. Fuck…

Etreven stepped up to the plate and began to swing his speech game. It had a bit of a nervous tone, but he was kinda unnerved by this whole situation, Alastor assumed, anyways. He didn't have all the fine details, and it was apparent that he was a man of detail and order. Hell, that could probably be told from his manner of dress. As the Ritualist spoke about how Greyscale was willing to lend their hand(s), a fact the hunter already knew, a realization came to his mind. This man, Etreven, had never spoken of his bonded demon before. Not even a hint as to what it was. Fuck, he could be Moloch. Archdemons were clever bastards. This suddenly brought concerns to mind, but he didn't show them, keeping his poker face throughout the entire thing.

Next a priest came up. Funny, Alastor didn't remember inviting anybody of the cloth. Whatever. This was probably a guise of some sort. Greyscale was known to have some pretty weird people grouping with them, but Ritualists in general tended to be pretty weird so it was just generally disregarded. The geezer began his speech and continued without interruptions. He'd have his chance to say a few more words soon, but nothing here was really disagreed with. If the group goes in with an empty head, they're probably gonna wind up pretty fucking dead. Common knowledge, but it was wise to repeat this to the dense. Alastor nodded in approval as the assumed Ritualist finished up his speech with a few unnaturally powerful words.

A military guy came up next, which already crossed him off of Al's favorites list. Authority really just tended to fuck everything up with their regulations and laws. What was military doing here anyway? Fuck, did they want the stash?! Too bad, it's hidden miles away from this location. He instantly reassured himself that this was just another man in a ridiculous costume and was in fact not associated with the United States military. Probably another Rituali- "I don't think 've heard a plan that bad in a long time.Woah wait what the fuck was that you little prick? Al's upper brow twitched, the first sign of some sort of emotive response. A bout of anger raised through him as her leaned forward, eager to hear this man's brilliant plan. Something about C-4 and blowing the walls down. Yeah, that would be addressed in a moment, but it was clear that one of his own comrades had something to say first, and then some. That's cool, he'd wait his turn for now.

It was Petri, some guy that was just let into Alastor's very own cell of Nephilim. He had a few thoughtful words, and clearly knew what was what when it came to explosives, opposed to this likely imposter "SEAL", whatever that was. The hunter didn't exactly waste a bunch of his time looking up the military ranks for other countries. He simply found it comical that it sounded so much like the fat sea mammal. Oh man, now was not the time to laugh. Unable to control himself for the moment, in a burst of his own hilarity, the demon hunter let out a short awkward chuckle at his own thoughts, only to be abruptly and manually ended. Okay, that was close.

Cael, a name only known through Lazarus, stepped up next. He said some stuff that Al simply would've loved to response to, but that wasn't his fight. Surely, this was going to be the fight of everyone's lives, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Adrenaline was the best anesthetic and motivator out there. Still, he made some bold claims. Facing an archdemon and surviving? This feat he doubted, but if it was seriously pulled off, some mad respect could be given that fact alone. However, after today, he won't be the only one who can say that anymore. Next came a more timid member of the Blades organization, one who spoke about the various demons that may be encountered. Alastor took down their names on his "asses to kick list" and left his thoughts on the manner at that.

It seemed the red-headed smokin' hot babe Lazarus's sister, Maeve, had already handled the task of freaking the fuck out on Cael the swordsman. So now that there was no longer a need to attend to that, not that he wanted to in the first place, Alastor turned his attention elsewhere. Oh right, the fat-sea-mammal. His shades connected with the soldier's eyes, and the smallest glint of his red iris could be seen if one was looking closely enough. He stood up, taking off his coat, as shit was about to get heated in here. "No need to start a fight about it bro but that's also a fucking terrible idea." That C-4 surely would be helpful, though. he thought about leaping into action and ceasing it, but that would've probably of caused a scene. "Not only does it raise structural problems like Petri said but do you know what that ice is made out of?" He raised a hand to his ear in a cocky gesture, and after a single like three seconds of silence, he began on again, "That's right. You don't. If you knew the slightest thing about Inferis, you'd know shit goes down differently there." His tongue held no harshness. He wasn't mad, he was just a bit rustled. Cool guys don't get furious anyways.

"That ice is probably as tough as fucking Belial's metal or some shit." A brief pause, the coupe de grace was coming right up. "It would be logical to assume nothing but that since it houses a massive archdemon that would likely fucking break everything if it were any different." Alastor sat back down, as he had pretty much said everything he wanted to address at that moment. Good timing, too, as Maeve was just finishing up here little fit with an agreeable sentence. "We'd better all work together, and work together well or all the planning in the fucking world won't work. I still have my doubts it will. So how about we all take the sticks out of our asses and actually get this shit done?" With a quick nod, the Russian added on to the end of it with a quick, "Yeah and that too."

This had been an odd month. It was finally over now and it didn't show a single damned sign of slowing the fuck down. Either they were going to head into Inferis with these guys or pull some counter op. The least likely was that they were going to quietly excuse themselves and catch the last flight to Hong Kong and sip some fucking scotch. Oh well, vacations were over rated anyway. Black loved his job and lived for his work. Hell, it could be said that Black didn't exist without his work. Officially after all, he didn't exist.

The first thing he needed to do was address his partner. Luckily for him he was a damned good multi-tasker and could listen to what was being said around him while speaking his own piece. That was also helpful because he was going to speak quietly and he didn't want any unwary observers to overhear him. Fortune lined up well as a man stood and began by introducing himself and pointing out his own familiarity with explosives. That was good. That meant that thee were two people here who knew how to take down a building. However, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being talked down to. No, it was certainly there. Oh well. It was likely his aggressive manner and accent that caused these people to doubt him. Honestly they all looked like ball-less fucks anyway. He could likely stand up right now and fucking waste every single person in this room in a matter of seven seconds and not even one of them would get out of their chair. No, scratch that, twelve seconds. He'd need to switch mags. He'd start with the more active three that looked like some kind of anime team. Then he'd waste the stage followed by the next nearest. Likely four people would stand up as he reloaded. Then as they either drew or tried to run he'd kill them too. All of them would die if they made a single wrong move. Just draw, rat-tat-tat-tat-tat and this meeting would end in gun smoke and pools of brain matter. Fuck these little condescending punks. Bunch of youngsters that needed a good pistol whipping. That was for another time though. He'd let them talk and play their parts and he would play his. Speaking of just that.

Black pulled his right hand up to his mouth and looked on at the samurai looking guy who stood up next. His hand obscured his mouth from view and he used the speech that this man was giving as cover for his own words to his partner. He spoke in a low tone barely audible. His words were harsh, cold, and irritated. "Lone wolf? You're fucking kidding me right? They saw us come in together, sit together, and you spoke to me. If we pretend that we aren't together it will be obvious. Especially if this Etreven guy is half as astute as you let on. Buck up rookie. Just because something doesn't go exactly how you want you don't cut and run. You need to learn to improvise, run with the wind, paint with it's fucking colors, be Pocahontas. Instead of being scared of what you can't control why not get some intel? That guy introduced himself and mentioned he had experience with explosives. This guy has seen an Archdemon. Make a profile, get names, work your magic David Copperfield. I'll be your sexy magician's assistant, draw attention and make them forget that mirrors and smoke make a elephant disappear. Poof Butterfly, time to flutter."

Now he was being addressed directly just after the partner of Mister Ovaska. She brought up a list of hostiles and it was rather helpful, plus she mentioned prototype suits. So those two were the acrobatic ones. He hoped Wei was getting that down in a combat profile. Damn, this was why he hated working with new people. Never knew if they were on board or if they were panicking. Oh well, he would just have to trust her. Trust... That was hard. But that was for later, now it was time to listen to some girl give a speech about how teamwork would pull them through certain doom and then he was getting berated by some guy who thought that Call of Duty was a realistic shooter. As the kid held his hand up to his ear Back had to literally control the urge to draw and put a hollow point through the kid's brain-pan. Watch his skull fly apart and then let the hounds out and send these fucks to Hell a few hours early. However, that would spell failure and Black didn't fail mission, not unless he wanted to.

Well, he might as well return a word or two about this whole situation. He didn't need to get all in their face but hey, maybe getting in their face would be exactly what they needed to get some chaos in here and show Wei exactly who these people were. Get a real good bit of intel on these boys and girls, and old people. So, how 'bout we get it goin'"Well," Black started with a small raise of his hand. He pointed over at Mister Ovaska,"It's good to know we've a explosives expert over 'ere." Black did not take his eyes off the so-called Man-with-the-plan. "I do know a thang'er two 'bout placing breaching charges if we wanted to flank'em." he pointed back to the boy on stage,"However, if this lil' bit'o ice is tougher'n a foot'o tungsten then it won't work. 'An I ain't gonna cry 'bout not gettin' to blow a hole in a house. Maybe we can use it on the Big Bastard hisself, or on some o't'other nasties the lady described." Black put his hand down and stood up. "My name is 2nd Lieutenant Skyler Greyden, United States Navy SEAL, as in Sea Air and Land. Best Spec OPs team in the fuckin' world, SEAL Team 3, serial number 34Echo6NinerHotelGolf-Charlie. I'was marked KIA in Operation Desert Shield. That was my first trip to Inferis. Now, I've ne'er been to t'Tundra. 'm not versed in how hard this ice is. However, I do know about killin' demons. 've been bull's-eyin' demons from two miles away fer longer than you've been walkin' boy." Black pointed back over Cael, then to Mister Ovaska and then to his partner the demonologist. "Those guys brought up tactical points and solutions." He droped his hand back to his side," I ain't here to complain. I'm here to shoot fuckin' Moloch and put 'is ass down fer the count." He pointed his finger back at Alastor,"Now, how 'bout we stop bitchin' bout the fact that my C-4 might not work and instead add to yer borderline suicidal ass framework of a plan, eh?" Black sat back down with a thud," We all done mesurin' dick now?" he shrugged and looked around. "I am, how 'bout it? Let's figure this out." Well that would stir things up. Hopefully for the best.

Last edited by Mr. Black on Wed Sep 25, 2013 5:40 am; edited 1 time in total

((OOC: Now while I would think Lucifuge is old enough and has lived in the Tundra long enough to know Moloch’s weakness is cooked beef, I don’t want to overstep those bounds if it is preferred against))

The old priest frowned at the bickering that seemed to be going on. Obviously the whole troupe was significantly less organized than he was led to believe. The item that concerns him most, however, was the fact that most of them seemed concerns with what mundane munitions might be able to affect the Archdemon Moloch. Obviously none of them had dealt long enough with Archdemons to understand that such creatures were practically immune to most if only by their regeneration factors alone and most had some insanely high defensive powers to back that up, such as Moloch’s Ice and his sheer brute form. He, however, understood that Archdemons all had some sort of strange weakness inherently tied to them. He of all of them should know that since he was A) the eldest among the entire group and B) a demon himself. He decided, however, it would be best to keep it simple for the moment, let those “in charge” handle discussion. He would just add a few simple thoughts.

“Brothers, sisters, I have heard many arguments for gaining tactical advantage. I must ask, however, who among you have researched specifically into the weaknesses of the Archdemons proper? Who among you holds a weapon that could be considered holy? If we wish to fully breach Moloch’s defenses, we will need to rely on much more than mundane munitions, though they will be of great help. I give you the example of the Archdemon Legion who in the time of Christ was cast into the flesh of pigs and has henceforth held a weakness to it. All of the Archdemons have some sort of unique weakness, something that is anathema to their being, even if it might be a certain form of holy object.”

The meeting had started simply enough. Three leaders explaining (in quite general terms) the overall plan, the concepts of the arrangement between the various parties involved and the people who would be leading the charge delivering the broad strokes. Asking for questions seemed simple enough, but failing to declare rules of order for the assemblage seemed in retrospect a rather fatal mistake. The motley crew had rapidly descended into bickering, petty clashes of personality bubbling up into strikes and jabs both at individuals, groups and the plans they put forward. They'd been united for a single purpose, and anyone present who hadn't known before that moment just what they planned to go up against was either grossly under informed or had not been paying attention.

It was just as well. Etreven was more than happy to watch them all squabble amongst themselves. It served two very distinct purposes: first and foremost, in the heat of conversation they all gave away so much valuable information it was almost funny. Second, the disorganization said many things about how the mission was likely to go. Clearly their leadership (himself included) had failed quite miserably at the inspirational aspect of this plot, which meant that any plan requiring great tactical cohesion was likely to fail. It was amusing, though none of those emotions came close to affecting Etreven at all. Instead he watched the crowd, scanning from speaker to speaker, person to person, assembling a more precise picture of the organization he was here in part to lead. His face looked concerned and prepared to speak at any moment, but he didn't really intend to do anything but watch and listen and learn.

His Lieutenant had been the first, though certainly not the last, and he watched as the shell of an ancient priest stood before him and in that same strange voice spoke out to the room. Finding those priests had been a challenge, but it had most certainly paid off. Here was a credible face for the organization. The heart, where he was the brains. It was a good working relationship, and in this case he was more than content to allow Lucifuge the space to speak as he wished. Yet if things had remained that orderly it would have been a shame…

Luckily that wasn't the case. Lucifuge's haunting words of encouragement had scarcely finished registering before the next member of a cavalcade of idiots and fools spoke up. The man had entered without much regard to how he was perceived. Cavalier and laden with bags and equipment. The girl who entered behind him did her best to appear unassociated, but the two had kept close together and the whispered exchanges between them did not go unnoticed. The fool had the tenacity to march into a room wherein allegiances were unclear, where leadership had been established and had chosen to exert his own plan and suggestions where they had not been asked? It was practically hilarious. And clearly made the girl beside him very, very nervous. She chose not to speak, which was in itself quite telling. They both needed watching quite closely.

Next came a rather plain man who seemed to at least want to offer constructive feedback. Expertise aside, he was both potentially useful and disrupting to the chaos that the soldier had begun to foment. Not high up on Etreven's priority list, but more than likely a viable distraction. The next two…members of the Blades perhaps? He lacked descriptions of their membership but was aware of their tenuous alliance with the Nephilim, his primary partners before this point. What he wanted was their names, but he'd have to suffice with attitudes, alliances and speech making. Not precisely what he expected, but it would do. The first went on about the danger of the opponent they faced, something which should have been obvious to everyone in the room. The second…actually gave her name. And confirmed exactly what he'd suspected from descriptions. And yet…this one seemed useful. If she survived the fight, he'd have to make sure to keep tabs.

From there the devolution into bickering crashed down with force. Between Maeve, Lazarus' sister, harping about the dangers and terrors of arch demons to Alastor's righteous indignation, they gave more and more of their energy into arguing and less into resolving the very real problems they faced. "We'd better all work together, and work together well or all the planning in the fucking world won't work. I still have my doubts it will. So how about we all take the sticks out of our asses and actually get this shit done?" Maeve was getting to a real point before the soldier spoke up again.

This time he truly gave himself away. Name, organization, rank. Oh, that man could be so easily undone and he didn't even know he'd given away the keys to the kingdom. Indeed so far, of the present assembly it seemed increasingly possible that he and the girl near to him might be emissaries of Firefly. It would be amusing to see if anyone else in the room inquired about their affiliations or loyalties, though so far none had. There was too much trust in this room, something liable to get any or all of them killed. Which was absolutely fine by Etreven's estimation.

He remained silent, listening to the group fight amongst themselves. He'd have to speak eventually, but for now he and Ymir were watching, waiting, and all the while he kept his expression soft, vaguely concerned and waiting for an opportunity to interject if necessary…

What a mess. The two twins were there early, helping with some of the later set up while Lazarus, the russian kid, and…. Jinhong eyed the stranger again, her expression a mask of impassivity while her sister, Pulean, seemed generally rather at peace with herself. Sure, the two were dressed warmly for the rather drastic shift in climate from what they were used to, though they certainly weren't wearing as many layers as some others were. It wasn't their first time having to be in a frozen tundra of fuck off cold. For the moment, Jinhong and Pulean were sitting off on the opposite side of the room to Maeve, eyeing the apparent sister to Lazarus with some dubiousness. Or at least Jinhong was. There were so many new people now… so many potential liabilities. How were they to know who would be most effective for anything at this point in time? Pulean leaned over and whispered, "You worry too much." Jinhong's face twisted into a frown as she instead turned her gaze to the people that were beginning to file into the warehouse. "I do not."

Her blue eyed twin could only laugh softly as she brushed her long, dark hair aside, herself observing people with some actual interest. "Yes you do." Of course her sister would be worrying right now. She was the the cell leader for DC in the Nephilim, and she took that responsibility rather seriously. And… well… Pulean knew just how worried she was about this meeting and the task that had been placed ahead of them. When Lazarus had told them what he had been planning, her twin had balked. Her, the strategist. Then again, even Pulean was a little dubious at simply "knocking Moloch over." Would an Archdemon really topple over that easily? She somehow doubted that they would have been the first to think of this, and she was sure that her sister had thought the same thing.

The two glanced to each other as if they knew what the other was thinking and watched the crowd while Lazarus, Alastor, and Etreven spoke. What a mixed bunch. Pulean could already see where they were going to run into issues with teamwork from how people were sitting, the expressions they wore, extrapolating from their appearances. It was all in the little details, and there were many to be noticed. Which was why Pulean was far more focused on watching everyone while Jinhong was instead listening to the words being said. Her brows knitted together at the religious priest in the crowd, truly hoping that he wasn't some obscure member of the Templars. It sounded like some sort of thing that those bastards would spout except…. Was that a demon in there talking? Which would mean Ritualist. Ugh she could feel her skin crawling, hands tightening into fists as she took a deep breath. Pulean reached a hand to touch her twins, neither one looking at the other while calm flooded Jinhong. There were demons in this room. They were just lucky that they weren't in Inferis otherwise Pulean would undoubtedly have her hands full keeping her twin calm and not literally raging against their supposed allies.

One after another people spoke up and offered their two cents, but none of them had a cohesive plan. None of them were trying to mesh together with what was being said before. Most were outright challenges to what had been already said! Jinhong fidgeted in her seat as she glanced over to the trio of leaders to see how they were reacting to this information, but there wasn't anything helpful there either. And then…. The Twins both frowned when Cael directly challenged Lazarus, the short haired Jangmi twitching again as she grit her teeth. But Maeve was already responding the instant he shut up, and so the two of them backed down, remaining silent while they merely listened. Again the military man spoke, revealing he was apparently a Navy Seal except…. Again, Jinhong questioned the logicalness of the people here. "I don't like this.""You think I do either?" They whispered to each other, clearing her throat as she rose up once the priest had finished his piece. He had brought up a good point, had anyone actually done that research? "Jinhong Jangmi. Nephilim cell leader in DC." A wave of discomfort slammed against her as she felt all eyes shift towards her, her entire body freezing up as her sister rose beside her. "Pulean Jangmi, member of the same cell."

Blue and crimson eyes stared out at the crowd, Pulean turning to face the majority of them with her sister as she offered a gentle smile to them. "It is good to see so many here gathered for a common purpose. However, I have no doubts that we all have our own sub-agenda's aside from taking down Moloch. We each have our own strengths, our own differences in training.So why are we jumping on each others toes instead of trying to all head towards coming up with an actual working plan? So far it seems more like apissing contest than a strategy meeting." Jinhong blinked and looked at Pulean whom was still only smiling. She had just…. ok. Whatever. "We are wasting time by just pointing out the flaws and striking down what has been said before." Jinhong grimaced as she cleared her throat, attempting to quell how her shyness was preventing her from speaking right now. "We have to work together, and for that we have to set aside our emotions. Rather than getting indignant or insulted by differing opinions, lets at least just listen to each other. Why not build off of what we have so far instead of tearing it down?" Pulean pointed to the priest, "Father, you were saying something about a weak point? Is there another place aside from the fire on his back that Alastor was talking about?"

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|:English (crimson)Korean (palevioletred)Demon (firebrick)

When speaking at the same time with her twin, they use mediumpurple no matter the language. Depends on the context and what they've been speaking before.

When in Inferis, they use italics with an appropriate color coding for the language when speaking telepathically to each other. :|

Mother of god, why did this damn mission have to be in such a fucking cold place?! Yuuko was positive her ass had frozen to her chair. Fuck Lazarus and his idealism when it meant she had to come along to this frozen fuck hole. Another thing that displeased Yuuko was the fact that their target was an arch-demon, Moloch to be exact. Their little group had had enough trouble taking down a horde of them without somebody getting nearly killed, but now they were battling something worth five hordes of demons. Then again, she had underestimated exactly how many people Laz had managed to recruit and groups he'd gotten to collaborate with them. She had to admit she was... impressed. Of course, she'd never admit that to him. Her pride wouldn't allow her to admit such a thing to someone she had deemed so lowly before.

But, there was one thing that was really bothering her. More than the cold, more than Moloch, and more than all the arguing going on the room. The fact that Jurou, her second-cousin, was here with her. Their meeting was sudden, and it was something she believed was, well.. pretty much impossible. She'd been an orphan for her whole young life, so at some point she had stopped praying for family to surface and come for her. So, for someone to show up and announce that they were kin, had left her dumbstruck and suspicious. With all the recent happenings with Templars, Yuuko made sure to stay on her toes around him. She was never alone in the same room with him, spied on him when she could, and attempted to dig up information about him online. Of course, there was nothing of significance. But apparently, according to Jurou himself, there was an entire Koizumi clan. Most of which was made up of demon hunters, including Yuuko's late mother. They haven't known each other for very long, so she didn't quite yet have all the details. Jurou wasn't much of a talker, so she'd have to squeeze answers out of him most of the time. The most Yuuko has found he's good for is looking at, really. For the short amount of time they've known each other, Yuuko hadn't found him to be very useful. He was good-looking, but useless in her eyes. He was also very hard to get rid of. Everytime she'd try to shake him, he'd persist! Good god, it was damned near impossible to lose this guy! Which was why he was sitting next to her, right now. Going the exact same mission as she was.

Yuuko groaned as everyone continued to argue over their plans of attack. She wasn't a cell leader, so she wasn't going to say anything at this point. Yuuko didn't want to get in a heated debate when there were so many people involved, it'd give her a headache even worse than the one she already had. At least Jinhong and Pulean were the voices of reason here. She knew there was something she liked about those two.

Yuuko let out a small puff of air before standing up, the chair groaning as she did. She eyed the crowd silently for a moment, taking in all the nerves and tension in the room. Turning towards the twins, she gave a soft nod and spoke.

"Well said, Pulean and Jinhong. You've both hit the nail on the head. All we're doing right now is fucking around and it's accomplishing nothing. If we want to get this done, we need a plan that's simple and straight to the point. If we make it too complicated, there are bound to be fuck-ups and mishaps. Now then, does anyone have anything valuable to say? Speak now."

Russia. Jean HATED Russia. Why you might ask? Well for one it was the ass back of no where and for two... He currently had a cold. A cold that was made all the worse by the freezing temperatures of that made that ice bound land their home. So as he trudged through the snow he had to wonder how he had let him self be talked into even showing up. You flipped a coin. He called it. You are now here. Ah yes that was right... Well at least the food had been good, though that was hardly worth this trudge though a snow drift. Though the walk was far better then it could otherwise have been, a path had already been cleared by a number of feet, still it did his soul well to complain. As he drew closer he could hear various voices going on about various ideas and situations that would eventually lead to every ones death. And to top it off it seemed that, while there where a few trying to take charge none seemed to actually care. "Naw better then stray mutts!" Jean shook his head in utter disgust as he walked on, finally making it to the door after a grand struggle against the cold and ice.

With a sigh he let him self in and paused. Eyes scanning the dimly lit room a frown crossing his features as he looks over those gathered and then back at their suroudings. "Oh fa gods sake! Ya tell mah i came all dis way ta listen' ta pups talk like dah know shit?" His eyes fall on the younger members gathered about them. "An whats more, ya can't even host this lil shindig in a respectable manner? the hell taught y'all manners? A croc?"[/color] He had agreed to show up, but not once had he been told that kids would also be in attendance. This back ally meeting along with what they had come there to discus and plan had lost ALL credibility. " I did ya a favor in showin up Etreven. But had I known dat ya enjoyed practical jokes just like dis i wouldn't have bothered ta show up."

With a roll of his eyes Jean made his way into the meeting place proper, crossed his arms then leaned against a far wall... Well away from the others there. After all he didn't want to detract more from their "important" business then he already had with his outburst. He had to wonder if he had walked into some sort of death cult.